Stop The Presses
by susanatc
Summary: Murder at a local high school dredges up some interesting memories for Castle.  One-shot.


_**Happy Birthday, Softer! **_

_This is my gift to you._

* * *

Castle pulled up short as he stepped into the press room of PS 218. The smell of ink and newspapers assaulted his senses and he was taken back to his own high school days. He'd never really been that interested in journalism, but he'd had a thing for Cameron Peck his senior year. Since Cameron was the editor-in-chief of the school paper, when she'd asked if he'd write a recurring column, he'd jumped at the opportunity. Fortunately for him, the newspaper advisor, Mr. Thornton, hadn't been so easily charmed. Working with Mr. Thornton had given Castle his first taste of writing with a deadline and he'd been hooked.

His eyes took in the room, almost an exact duplicate of the one he'd spent so many hours in. It was large, with computers lining every wall and a few on the desks that took up the center of the room. Every visible surface was covered in paper; there was paper on the desks, on the walls, even stacked on the floor. The trash bins were overflowing with multi-colored paper and food wrappers and Castle could count at least four coffee pots from where he stood.

The off-white walls were there, he knew, but they were completely hidden. The wall nearest him was covered by back issues of the newspaper. A quick glance to his left showed that the oldest one dated back to 2004. The timeline was obvious by the amount of yellow accumulated over the years. The other three walls wore a curtain of various things – posters, name tags, large notices punctuated with multiple exclamation marks, and the ever present school mascot in the center of it all. Then there were the sticky notes. Lots and lots of sticky notes. There were sticky notes in every shape, size and color imaginable – decorating not only the walls, but the computers as well.

The whiteboard centered at what appeared to be the front of the room was a massacre of color, and for some reason, it suddenly reminded Castle of their own murder board back at the station.

He was jolted back to the present by Kate's voice.

"Castle."

Glancing around the room, he spotted her in the far corner and made his way over to join her.

"What did I miss?" he asked.

Kate nodded to where Lanie was kneeling over their victim.

"MacKenzie Risinger," she replied. "The advisor for the school newspaper. One of the custodians found her when they came in to clean the room."

"Cause of death?" he asked, his eyes taking in the blood stain on the large printer behind where Lanie knelt and his mind recalling the printer in his high school news room – lovingly nicknamed Bertha.

"Blunt force trauma," Lanie supplied as she looked up. "It looks like she hit her head on the printer."

Castle turned his attention back to Kate.

"Murdered?"

Kate nodded.

"Lanie found bruises on her forearms that indicate she put up quite a struggle. Ryan and Esposito are working with school security to get copies of the camera footage for this section of the building as well as a list of who accessed the building after school hours yesterday."

Castle nodded as his eyes were drawn to the table that housed the mock-up of the next issue of the paper. Following his gaze, Kate grinned.

"Bring back memories of your days with the school paper, Castle?" she teased. "The Adventures of Bruce August."

His eyes shot to hers, his surprise evident. While they'd talked about a lot of things since they'd officially started dating a few months earlier, the mini-series he'd written for his school paper wasn't something that had ever come up in their conversations. In fact, while it wasn't a secret, it also wasn't common knowledge that he'd even worked for the school paper.

"How do you know about that?"

Kate merely arched an eyebrow, her eyes sparkling with amusement and her voice laced with innuendo as she replied.

"Oh Castle, the things I know about _you_ could fill a book."

Before he could question her further, one of the uniformed officers walked over and handed her an evidence bag.

"We found this under the desk in the corner," he informed her.

"Thanks," she said, holding up the bag to inspect it.

Castle stepped closer for a better look himself.

"What is it?"

"It looks like a state championship pin off a letter jacket," Kate replied.

"The Rockets did win the state football championship last year," Castle stated. "Perhaps one of the players is our killer."

"It could just as easily be one of the coaches, cheerleaders, academic advisors or administrators," she pointed out. "The players weren't the only ones who got pins."

"Valid point," he acknowledged. "So where do you want to start?"

"Let's go talk to the principal and get a copy of Ms. Risinger's class schedule," she replied as she handed the evidence bag back to the other officer and headed out of the room. "We're going to need to know everyone who had access to the press room after school hours."

"And maybe along the way you can tell me how you know about Bruce August," Castle suggested.

Kate merely chuckled. Although she would never admit it, there were times when being a true Richard Castle fangirl played to her advantage.

* * *

Three days later, Castle walked into the precinct carrying two cups of coffee, not in the least bit surprised to find Kate sitting on the corner of her desk staring intently at the murder board. Stopping at her side, he handed her one of the coffees.

"Thank you," she replied as she lifted it to her lips, her gaze never leaving the board.

"What have you found?" he asked.

"Not much. Brian Drake's alibi is rock solid," she replied, her gaze falling on the picture of their prime suspect, a defensive lineman who was failing Risinger's class and in danger of getting put on academic probation and losing his athletic eligibility as a result. "He was at football practice until 6:30 and then rode the bus home. His parents verified that he was in his room doing homework until after ten."

Castle's eyes took in the board, the various pictures and colored lines triggering something in his memory.

"Do you have the rest of the pictures from the crime scene?" he asked.

Kate handed him the folder, her eyes finally moving away from the board to look at him.

"What are you thinking?"

Castle shrugged as he sorted through the pictures until he found the one he was looking for. Pulling it from the stack, he handed it to Kate.

"What am I looking at?" she asked as she looked at the photo of the large whiteboard centered in the front of the press room.

"Top right corner of the board," he told her.

Kate focused her attention there and then reached for the stack of photos, sorting through them until she found one that was a close up of that section.

"Brian Drake was one of the students on Risinger's list of after school tutoring," she stated.

"And?"

Kate read further down the list.

"And so was Jake Davis," she added, her eyes darting back to the murder board.

Castle watched as the pieces fell into place in her mind, the slight grin playing about her lips the only indication.

"Jake claimed he wasn't feeling well so he'd skipped practice and gone straight home," Kate said. "We couldn't find anyone who could verify that though."

"Speaks for opportunity," Castle stated. "And at 6'3" and 220 lbs, he has more than enough physical strength to overpower MacKenzie which speaks to means."

"What about motive?" Kate asked.

He had no answer for that one so Castle turned his attention back to the murder board, silence stretching between the two of them until Esposito rounded the corner with a grin on his face.

"The lab pulled some interesting e-mails from MacKenzie Risinger's computer," he said as he joined them. "It appears as if Ms. Risinger was getting some very explicit invitations from one of her students. Would you care to take a guess as to which one?"

Kate and Castle looked at each other and grinned.

"Jake Davis," they replied in unison.

Esposito shook his head with an exasperated sigh and handed Kate the printouts of the e-mails.

"How do you two do that?"

Kate scanned the e-mails, Castle moving to stand behind her and read over her shoulder.

"Get a warrant to pick up Davis," Kate said as she finished. "As well as a warrant to search his house. We need his letter jacket with the torn threads from his missing championship pin to put him at the scene."

"On it, boss," Esposito replied before heading back to his desk.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Kate turned her attention back to Castle.

"I could kiss you right now."

He arched an eyebrow, his eyes instinctively dropping to her lips before returning to meet her gaze.

"But you won't," he replied. "Not here."

At the slight shake of her head, he continued.

"My place tonight?"

She grinned ever so slightly, her own eyes dropping to his lips.

"I'll bring dessert," she agreed. Lifting her eyes back to his, she continued, "And if you're good, I might even tell you how I know about Bruce August."

Castle smiled at that.

"Oh trust me, Detective. I plan to be _very_ good tonight."

Kate laughed softly before pushing herself off her desk.

"Come on, Castle. Let's go catch a murderer."

Allowing his eyes to drift down her body and catch the sway of her hips, Castle followed her, his thoughts already on the evening ahead of them.

* * *

It was dark in the room except for the light from the television screen which cast a pale glow over the couple stretched out on the couch, their legs intertwined as their hands and mouths caressed one another.

"Tell me about Bruce August," Kate said as she trailed her hands under the back of Castle's shirt.

Castle pulled back slightly to meet her gaze, his hand stilling on her abdomen.

"It appears to me as if you already know plenty about him," he replied.

Kate grinned.

"I know his story," she agreed. "I'm more interested in how he came into being."

Castle arched an eyebrow.

"Exactly _how_ do you know his story?"

"I read it," she offered, her hands moving around to his stomach, feeling his muscles clench under her touch.

"I gathered that," he responded. "I'm wondering where you managed to get your hands on it in order to read it."

Kate waggled her eyebrows as she lowered one hand to cup him.

"Have you not learned yet that I have my ways of getting my hands on what I want when it comes to you?"

He thrust his hips into her hand, a low growl rumbling from his throat as she stroked him firmly.

"Perhaps we should take this conversation somewhere a little more private?" he suggested.

"Not looking to traumatize Alexis tonight?" she asked.

"Or any night for that matter," he agreed as he rolled to his feet before reaching for her hands and pulling her up as well.

Once they were safely inside his bedroom, they wasted no time divesting each other of their clothing. While they spent the majority of their nights together these days, there were times when they were working a case when Kate chose to sleep at her own apartment. This particular case had been one of those times and Kate wasn't above admitting that she'd missed him.

They fell to the bed together, his weight pressing her into the mattress as his hands trailed along her body, bringing every nerve ending buzzing to life. Her hands weren't idle, stroking and caressing him as her lips teased along his neck, gentle bites to his shoulder drawing soft gasps of pleasure from him. They continued their playful lovemaking, sounds of pleasure filling the room as they teased each other, and it wasn't long before she was squirming beneath him, his body filling hers as the delicious friction pushed them both over the edge with each other's name on their lips.

It was much later, as she lay sprawled across his chest, her body satiated for the moment, that she finally answered his question.

"Martha keeps a scrapbook," she murmured, one hand drawing random patterns on his chest.

"Of my high school paper?" he asked, lifting his head lightly to look down at her.

She turned to meet his gaze, a soft smile on her lips.

"Of _everything_," she replied. "Your birth announcement; a lock of curls from your first haircut; your first tooth; first report card. Heck, she even has a copy of the blurb that ran in the local paper after your first arrest."

Castle pondered the news for a moment before dropping his head back to his pillow.

"That's only somewhat disturbing."

Kate laughed and shifted so she was lying fully on top of him.

"I thought it was sweet," she said.

"In a stalkerish kind of way, I can see that," he agreed.

"Anyway, that's how I know about Bruce August."

His eyes met hers then.

"What did you think?"

Kate propped her chin on her crossed arms, a smile still playing on her lips.

"Digging for a compliment, Castle?"

"Not at all," he replied with a shake of his head, his hands finding their way to the small of her back. "Just the truth."

She watched him for a long moment, weighing her words carefully before she finally answered him.

"It didn't have the usual Richard Castle flair that I've come to expect from your writing. It's evident that your writing has improved as you've aged," she stated. "However, it was still quite good. In fact, having been quite a fan of Derrick Storm, I can see where he got his beginning. Your series on Bruce August was obviously a very rough draft for him."

"It was my junior year in college before Derrick Storm truly came to life in my head," Castle replied. "But you're correct; Bruce August was my initial vision of who he was."

Kate was quiet as she aimlessly ran her fingers across his chest.

"You amaze me sometimes," she said at last, her eyes locking on his once again.

"You mean like the time I ruined your microwave when I was doing research for Nikki Heat?"

Kate rolled her eyes.

"Don't remind me. I'm still mad about those shoes and I'll never find that shade of lipstick again." She paused for a minute, her eyes raking in his features before she continued. "But that wasn't what I meant. I just think that the way your mind works is fascinating. The way you committed to a character when you were a teenager is amazing and then to have written him for nearly thirty years?"

She gave him a playful smile, watching the shock register on his face.

"_Thirty_ years? Ouch! Exactly how old do you think I am, Detective?"

"I know I'm going to regret this," she told him. "But I think you're kind of brilliant."

His smile made it worth saying the words out loud.

"Can I get that in writing?"

"No."

"Can I issue a public statement?" he continued.

"Already regretting it," she murmured under her breath.

He laughed for a moment before he rolled her beneath him and proceeded to show her just how brilliantly annoying he could be. Thoughts of Bruce August and Derrick Storm faded from their minds as their world narrowed until nothing mattered outside of one another, and losing themselves in the moment.

_

* * *

_

First and foremost, thank you to Softer for her unwitting help on the opening scene. I hope I did it justice.

_Second, thank you to IMW for her wonderful beta work and the kick in the pants that I needed._

_Finally, after you write a review, drop Softer a note and wish her a happy birthday._


End file.
